Colliding
by mockingjay08
Summary: Christine and Raoul are finally living happily ever after and have a little girl, Charlotte. They even have another child on the way. But memories come flooding back and irk certain feelings in Christine when she tells Charlotte a story about the Phantom of the Opera... Some secrets are best kept to one's self, and continue to lead the perfect life of a Viscountess.
1. Charlotte

Charlotte looked up at her mother. "Mama are you alright? Why are you sad again?" she asked her mother, who was sitting at the window and just staring out.

She did this often. Yes, Raoul was being a perfect husband, and their child was growing every day. But that was the problem. Charlotte was growing.

Christine pulled Charlotte onto her lap. Charlotte looked out at the falling snow, her yellow green eyes sparkling. That was it. The eyes.

She combed her fingers through her daughter's dirty blond curls. Not dark enough to be called brown, but at the same time, not light enough to be blonde. The same color as...

"Papa's home!", she cried, and slid off of Christine's lap to run downstairs to greet her father. "Be careful!" Christine called as she heard the hurried little feet throughout the house.

Three years old. Four years ago. Christine sighed and shut her eyes, but that couldn't erase the images, the memories of it all. There was so much to remember; to remember the sounds, the sights, what had happened. But she didn't want any of that. She needed to concentrate on being the perfect wife and mother.

She rested her hands on her belly, knowing that it would soon be noticeable. Heavier steps echoed, along with the excited voice of Charlotte, telling about all the things she and Mama had done that day. Despite her sadness, Christine smiled. Charlotte was happy, in a regular house, with a regular...

Raoul walked into the room, Charlotte clinging to his neck as he carried her. "Go and play with Madeleine", he told her, setting her gently down on the ground. She scurried off to play with their Golden Retriever.

Raoul sat by Christine on the windowsill and stroked the hair away from her face. "There's a party tonight. Firmin and his wife are leaving for America, and they wanted to celebrate their last night in France", he softly told her.

She clasped her hand over his, stopping his stroking, and brought it down to her lap. "We're going, then?" she asked him.

"I think it would be fun. You haven't seen them in a while", he said over the giggles of Charlotte in the next room.

Christine simply nodded. "What about Charlotte?"

"They would love to see her again. Madame Firmin even told me that we could bring her. They'll be other children there. Meg is bringing Henry", he assured her.

Downstairs, Christine could hear Charlotte playing the piano yet again. As a three-year old, she had taken quite an early interest in music; especially the piano.

Christine closed her eyes and drew in a shuddered breath. It was just one more sign. If Raoul noticed...

Raoul kissed her on the cheek and left. He had grown used to Christine's quiet behavior. Especially now, with the baby coming along, he never asked anymore.

She got up and began preparing for tonight. It was already late, and the party started soon.

* * *

Finished, Christine went to go prepare Charlotte. "Go downstairs, Maddie", Christine gently told the dog, who obeyed and padded downstairs. She closed the door softly behind her and picked out a dress for Charlotte.

"Let's do your hair, Charlotte", Christine said as she sat Charlotte down in front of her and began working the curls into a half-updo.

"Mama can you please tell me a story? Like one of your stories from the opera house? Or a made-up one, I don't care. As long as it's a story", Charlotte asked Christine. Christine shut her eyes tight. She had already told the little girl all of the stories she had. All of the stories that didn't involve him.

Just thinking about it made her heart ache. Everything that had happened. "Mama why are you crying? You don't have to tell me a story if you don't want to", Charlotte said, turning around as Christine set the brush down.

"It's alright Charlotte. I'll tell you a story. I just miss... the opera house because it burned down", she explained, furiously wiping her tears away.

"Oh", the little girl said, and turned around so her mother could finish her hair.

"Once upon a time there was a very successful opera house. All of the fancy counts, countess', and viscounts came to the performances", she began.

"That's Papa!", Charlotte cried.

"Yes, that's Papa. Anyway, the opera house was not as perfect as it seemed. There were rumors. Rumors of an opera ghost that constantly haunted all of the ballerinas, stage hands, and even the prima donna herself", she gulped. She couldn't believe she was doing this. She was just digging the hole in her heart deeper.

"Everyone was scared about the opera ghost. He was known as the phantom of the Opera. What people didn't know was that he was human being just like everyone else. He even had a real name, although no one knew it".

"Did you know his name, Mama?"

She closed her eyes and finished with Charlotte's hair. "Yes. It was Erik", she said, her voice softening into a whisper as she said his name. She had avoided everything about him until know. But Charlotte needed to know about him. Especially her.

"He stayed at the opera house, in the catacombs because he thought he was unneeded in the world, and that no one loved him", she continued.

"But you would have loved him, wouldn't you? You're a good person, I know you are Mama. Madame Giry says so. You would have loved him", Charlotte said confidently, so certain.

"Charlotte you can get dressed yourself, can't you? I have to finish something", Christine lied.

Charlotte simply nodded and began to undress. Christine flew into an empty room before the tears came. _You would have loved him._ She could feel her heart break into pieces. It was all too much. All of the thoughts about him came rushing out.

Where was he now? Had he forgotten about her? Did he love someone else now? Did he know that Charlotte was... no of course he didn't. But she missed him. It was a constant ache.

And she hated it.


	2. Memories

**By the way, I think that the whole 2004 movie took place within the course of a month and a half, around there. This what I'm going by, as it fills in plot holes especially in this chapter. You'll soon see why... ;)**

Everyday it seemed like her belly was growing, and it became pretty noticeable on Christine's slim figure a month later.

During that time, Raoul had arranged a contract with a few others to begin repairs on the opera house. And that day, Christine wanted to bring Charlotte to the opera house for the first time. It was still rubble at the moment, but it was a big part even in Charlotte's life.

She got a few curious looks when she came out of the carriage, holding Charlotte's hand and obviously pregnant. She ignored those looks and continued on her business.

She picked up Charlotte and maneuvered through the rubble. Expecting there to be rubble covering the entrance, she looked carefully. But it was quite easy to find, almost as though someone had recently cleared it away. She started down the stairs, Charlotte balanced on her hip as Christine held on to her daughter.

They finally reached the destination. There were no candles to light it up now, no boat near the lake. Christine had taken another way, so they didn't have to cross the river.

The young mother walked over to a messy, unkempt area. They were still there. "Mama, it's you!" Charlotte cried, reaching out to the dusty papers with faded drawings. Of herself.

"Charlotte I don't think this was a good idea. Let's go back home", she said, almost breathless. She set Charlotte down and held her hand as she rushed back to where they came in.

A deep and very familiar voice sounded through Christine's ears just as they were about to leave. "Christine", it said. She closed her eyes and took in shaky breaths, holding Charlotte close to her. She didn't dare look behind her.

But Charlotte did. "Mama, who is that?" she whispered to Christine.

"Hush, Charlotte", Christine said, and proceeded to leave, hoping that it was just her imagination.

"Christine, wait", he said again, this time stopping her. No, how could it be? He had left, hadn't he? And, oh God, Charlotte was here. She couldn't let him see Charlotte, he would surely...

Charlotte reached out her arms to Christine, silently asking her to pick her up. She did, and Charlotte buried her head in Christine's hair, which she had forgotten to tie up this morning. It improperly hung loose and free, framing her face amongst the wild curls.

With shaking fingers, Christine stroked her daughter's hair, and turned around. Of course it was him, who else would she expect?

She avoided his gaze in any way possible, staring to the side. She protectively put a hand on her growing belly, hugging Charlotte tightly to her. She prayed that he wouldn't see her eyes.

"Christine, who...?" he stared curiously and sadly at the breathing bundle she carried.

Christine took a deep breath. She would _not _let Charlotte see her like this in front of him. Charlotte could never know. "Erik this is my daughter, Charlotte", she said in a shaky voice.

His yellow green gaze took her in, his unmasked side just as intimidating as his masked. Never had he ever imagined Christine as a mother, but here she was, and almost a mother of two as well. And her daughter... Charlotte had just raised her head from Christine's hair and looked at him. God, her face looked just like Christine's when she first came to the opera house. Except her hair and her... eyes.

Christine closed her eyes and her lower lip trembled with fear. She looked exactly like when he sang to her after her performance, so long ago...

"Papa's going to be home soon", Charlotte said to her mother.

"Yes, I know. We're leaving", she said, finally catching his eye. She couldn't stop staring into his eyes.

Christine managed to pull herself away and left without another word. He stared after her, at his Angel. He never thought he would see her again, and yet, four years later there she was.

As soon as she got out of his sight, Christine hurried her pace, holding onto Charlotte as if for dear life. "Charlotte, dear, don't tell Papa about this. Please, don't. Or Papa will be worried, and that won't be good. Do you understand?" she breathed to her daughter.

Charlotte's eyes grew big and she simply nodded. They were silent for the entire carriage ride home, and Charlotte fell asleep with her head on Christine's lap.

Christine stroked her head as she attempted to heal the reopened wound that had opened today.

His face... so confused, sad, disappointed, worried, everything all at once, except anything to do with happiness. And the way he looked at her... it was unexplainable. His gaze had lingered over Charlotte, maybe even her eyes, Christine couldn't tell, but she knew she had to leave. She made herself promise that she would never come back.

* * *

He should have never come back. He should have known with his luck that he would meet her there. All he wanted was to see his lair one last time before reconstruction, and yet he had met her there. And her daughter.

Oh God, the look she had given him. It was the most frightened look she had given him yet, and she had given him quite a bit. And what had hurt most... it was the way she held her child to her, and protected her unborn child with her hand, as if he would hurt them.

He knew his love for Christine would never die. True love never dies. But he was managing... until now. He needed to see her, to talk to her, tell her that she looked like goddess, to beg her forgiveness. He needed to ask her properly if she would marry him...

But he couldn't she did certainly marry that boy. They even had a child together. Two. He cringed as he imagined his Angel being touched by that fop, his hands roaming every inch of her creamy flesh...

He shut his eyes and tried to put that one time, that one night out of his mind. But he couldn't... he could almost feel her gentle touch...

_"Angel wait. Before you take me back... I... I'm sorry, Angel. I didn't think..." she had pleaded with him after his eruption of anger. She had just pulled off his mask and now he was ruined. Everything, all of the pretending was ruined; she would never love him._

_She still lay on the floor, her shimmering nightgown almost see-through. He couldn't look at her. "You didn't think that your Angel was really a deformed monster?" he growled at her._

_She stood up at walked over to him. She stood on her ballerina tiptoes and kissed him. There was a little hesitance to it at first, but then it grew deeper, and he was almost lost until he managed to fight his lust off._

_"No, Christine. Don't do this. You will regret it, I know", he pushed her away._

_"Angel, please. I have known you as my Angel and nothing more. Now I know that you are a man. I... I would like to know that man", she whispered timidly._

_He jerked his head up. No, she couldn't. Why would she do this to him? But her gaze was so sincere and truthful, it was hard not to believe._

_"You don't really, Christine", he grumbled, hiding the real emotion behind his voice._

_"Yes I do. Please. Know me as the woman you want, instead of a little girl of a student. Angel, please. Don't worry about me. This is for you. Everything you've done for me", she pleaded with him._

_He shook his head, confused. Without another word, she kissed him again, this time quickly and softly. She took his hand and led him to the swan bed, the sheets still rumpled from where she had slept._

_He closed his eyes; this wasn't real. But it was very real. _

_She sat on her knees, her skirt pooled out around her, the slit revealing her pale legs up to her thighs._

_No, he would not know her like this. "Christine", he gasped. _

_She grabbed both of his hands and gently pulled him towards the bed. He obediently sat on the edge of the bed. She took his hands and placed them on her waist._

_He took in a breath and wanted so desperately to remove his hands, but she held them there. "No, Christine. Don't", he rasped, but she ignored him._

_She let go of his hands, and he brought them away from her body. He couldn't mar his Angel. She was so pure, so gentle and sweet._

_"Please, Angel", she whispered._

_He sighed, and it turned into a gasp when she began to pull her robe off. It fell off of her shoulder, revealing the shortest sleeves on any woman he had ever seen, trimmed with seductive lace._

_Her arms curved to her back to untie the light pink ribbons that held her corset on, and that soon clunked to the floor. "Christine", he whispered as her natural curves were revealed, only a thin chemise nightgown on her. _

_The aroused peaks of her nipples made Erik look away, but Christine cupped her hand over his cheek and brought his face ever so close to her own._

_She lay down on her back, curls splayed out every which way. A rosy blush had spread over her cheeks and the candlelight set her skin off in an angelic glow._

_He pushed her nightgown's skirt up her legs, revealing more and more of her creamy skin the farther he went. Soon, all of her long lean legs were in view except for the very top of her thighs. Coarse, curly hair peaked out from underneath the thin fabric. He closed his eyes and nestled the fabric so it rested above her hip bones._

_Christine's blush soon turned from rose colored to a deep crimson as he admired her. Her bud shined with arousal, pink and swollen with curly deep brown hair surrounding it. She bit her lip nervously until she tasted blood, worried about what her Angel would think of her._

_"Christine... you are a goddess", he breathed as he took in the sight he had never seen before._

_"Thank you, Angel", she breathed. Her body jolted as he ran his fingers swiftly over her womanhood._

That was the memory he needed, wanted to get rid of. But he couldn't. It was so clear in his mind...

They had proceeded to make love that evening, and Erik would never forget how worried he had been about hurting her when she told him to go in...

He held his head in his hands, knowing that he would never see her again.

* * *

Christine tucked Charlotte into bed. So far she hadn't said a word to Raoul about Erik today.

She got into bed beside Raoul. He kissed her nose and slid his hand underneath the fabric of her nightgown onto her bare, growing stomach. With this touch, she soon felt herself drifting to sleep fearful of the nightmares that she knew would come about Erik.


	3. The Story

Christine woke up that morning in a cold sweat. She had indeed dreamed of Erik. This one had both Erik and Raoul in it, and both of them died and Charlotte ran away.

She went to go wake Charlotte up and help her get ready for the day. Yes, there were maids, but they only cooked. Christine preferred to do everything herself.

She opened the curtains of Charlotte's room as Charlotte unbuttoned her nightgown. "Mama are we going back to the opera house today?" she innocently asked.

Christine stopped in her tracks and took a hold of Charlotte's shoulders. "Charlotte listen to me, please. We are never going back to the opera house, do you understand?" she lightly scolded the little girl.

"Yes Mama. It was just that that man was nice to me, and he has a nice piano. I think he likes you, too", she giggled.

"What makes you say that?" Christine asked her cautiously. She truly did wonder if Erik still had feelings for her.

"He looks at you funny. And he didn't stop looking at you. The whole time. Why does he wear a mask?"

She wasn't supposed to be talking about these things. "I don't know. But never ask him, alright?" she lied.

"But I thought you said we would never see him again. So why would you worry about me asking him, Mama?" Charlotte pointed out.

Christine was silent, not knowing how she was supposed to reply to that. "Mama I just really want to see him again. Please can we go, just one more time?" Charlotte pleaded her.

"No, Lotte. I don't think he would like that", Christine said, putting on her best mask.

"But he likes you a lot!" Charlotte protested. It would have made Christine laugh a lot as she said this; her nightgown was half off. Except she didn't, as they were talking about Erik.

"Don't contradict, Charlotte Meg de Chagny", Christine scolded her.

Charlotte was quiet for the rest of the period, as Christine helped her get dressed.

"I know you want to go see him again, and he wants to see you. I want to see him. He's the same man from that story you told me, the one you cried about", Charlotte said in her little girl voice, and left to say goodbye to her Papa before he left for work.

Christine sighed and went after her. Raoul was just about to go out the door. She grabbed him and brought him in for a long kiss. "I love you", she said.

He looked at her with surprise, but kissed her back. He smiled and left. It was the most affection she had shown him for a while.

She sighed and rubbed her temples. She glanced at Charlotte, who looked at her innocently. "Charlotte... I'm going to tell you another story", she said, leading the little girl upstairs to her room.

Charlotte silently sat down on her bed and looked expectantly as Christine, who sat down on the bed beside her. She began right away. "Once upon a time there was a little girl. She was just a normal girl, whose father had recently died, leaving her with no one except for her close friends. Her father promised her an Angel, an Angel of Music. Well being a sad little girl, she readily believed this and as soon as she arrived at the opera house with her friends, she began looking for signs of the Angel as she trained to be a ballerina", Christine began. It was just a story for now, but later, in time, as Charlotte grew older, she would tell her the truth about everything. She just hoped she could hold it all in for that long.

"Is this a true story? Like in your opera house?" Charlotte interrupted.

Her mother winced as she began to lie to her little girl. "No. Nothing like this ever happened in the opera house. This is only a story, just for you to listen".

The little girl nodded and stared wide-eyed at the ex-ballerina. "Anyway, one day, she finally got a sign; there was a voice that sang to her every night. It sounded like the voice of an Angel. She believed that it was her Angel. Her Angel began to teach her, improving her voice every day", she paused.

She couldn't tell Charlotte about her Angel also being the Phantom of the Opera; she would relate that to the story she told her the night of the party a month ago. She continued. "Well this little girl was now a young lady of seventeen. She had begun to court her childhood sweetheart, but still believed in her Angel. By now, her Angel had trained her voice so well, and she had taken over a prima donna of the opera house. After her first big performance, her Angel brought her to where he lived, and it turned out that he wasn't an Angel after all; he was just a man, lonely and sad. He had grown to love the girl, and had even wanted to marry her now. But she was very torn. Her childhood sweetheart had just proposed to her, and she thought she loved him more. Being a confused girl at the time, she married her childhood sweetheart", Christine finished.

"Did she really love her Angel?" Charlotte asked, all sadness of not being able to go to the opera house now gone.

Christine hesitated. It would be stating the truth out loud, when she still wasn't even sure. Maybe it was still her childish fantasies. "She never really knew, Lotte".

"Well I think she loved her Angel. But I think it's odd that he watched her grow up and then wanted to marry her", Charlotte confessed.

Christine let out a laugh. Her sweet voice echoed throughout the house. She hadn't laughed in a long time. She hugged her daughter, still laughing.

A silent figure peaked in through the bay windows that lit up the child's room. His heart fell to pieces with longing and love as he saw his Angel laughing with her daughter. He couldn't hear her sweet voice through the window, but, God, he wanted to.

* * *

After Charlotte practiced her piano, mother and daughter went to the library. Now, Christine would read books to Charlotte, maybe even teaching her some of the words.

She was settling onto Christine's lap when Charlotte asked her mother a question. "Mama, when you took me to Madame Giry's house, I played with Henry. He said that his mother always sang him lullabies, and asked me if I knew any. But Mama, you never sing to me. I don't know any. Why don't you sing?"

Her question shot like fire throughout her veins. Only her Angel had ever asked her to sing. "I guess I just don't want to, Charlotte", she said firmly, ending the discussion.

Christine felt the breath being taken out of her. Pain seared and spread throughout her stomach. Contractions; the same she had felt before Charlotte had been born. But it was way too early. She still had about five months to go.

Her breaths came in short ones, as she was mostly scared. She had no idea what was happening. "Mama?" Charlotte called. It seemed so far away.

And then everything was black.


	4. Led into Depression and Confusion

"Monsieur?!" Charlotte's small voice came, frightened. Mama had just stopped talking, and her eyes weren't even open. What was happening?

Erik had burst through the window. It had already been opened, and he had been listening. When Christine had stopped talking and then Charlotte started panicking, he had peeked in. Christine was slumped in the chair, Charlotte standing beside her and shaking her arm.

With one swift movement, he picked her up. He glanced at the seat; blood was seeping through the thin fabric. Bringing her into the hallway, he passed a frightened maid.

"What happened? Who are you?" she asked.

"She needs a doctor. Charlotte, stay here", he instructed.

Without any protest, Charlotte stayed behind, clinging to the maid's skirts.

Erik caught the carriage driver. They rode as fast as humanly possible, tearing through the streets to the doctor's. In the passenger's seats, Erik had Christine laid out, her head on his lap. He stroked her hair, having no idea what was happening. He saw before that she was pregnant, but that couldn't be. It was too soon.

With a lurch, the carriage stopped and Erik jumped out, carrying Christine. Her skirt was bloody, and stirred commotion as soon as he brought her in.

"Who are you?" the doctor asked, showing Erik to a cot.

"No one. She just needs your help", he growled. The doctor needed to get to Christine _now._

The doctor pulled Christine's skirts up and Erik's gaze grew heated. The thought of someone else seeing his Angel irked him, but he wasn't supposed to care. He was just a memory to her.

"Early childbirth. But the child is too underdeveloped. It won't make it. All she can do now is give birth like usual", the doctor explained cautiously to Erik, still weary of who he was.

Erik tensed. Yes, the child was the boy's, but it still was Christine's too. She would be heartbroken.

Christine's eyes fluttered open. They focused in the light, and the doctor saw her awake. "Monsieur you have to leave now", he said, pushing Erik out of the room.

"Erik? Erik!" Christine said, half sitting up until pain brought her back again. Had it really been him? What was he doing here? Where was Charlotte? Was she safe?

A million questions raced through Christine's mind, but immediately stopped when the doctor began speaking to her. "Christine you have a child, don't you? Charlotte? I remember", he spoke calmly.

She nodded. "Well I need you to proceed like it's any other child birth, alright? The baby needs to come out", he told her. She nodded and then grimaced as another contraction hit her in a wave of pain.

* * *

She kept falling in and out of sleep. The first time she woke up, Raoul was standing over her, stroking her sweaty forehead. She tried to smile at him, but fell asleep again before she could.

The second time was the worst and something she could never forget. There was another woman, a nurse. She was carrying a bundle, completely wrapped with a clean towel. Raoul sat on a nearby chair, a tear running down his cheek. Christine was confused, and she felt the bed space next to her, where her baby should have been lying. But there was nothing. She clearly remembered actually giving birth, and realization struck her with a lightning bolt. Her eyes shot open in panic, but then everything went black once more.

* * *

After the waves of sleep had completely vanished and now she was completely awake. But she didn't want to be. She wanted to be dead. She hated everything now, hated how things had turned out.

The baby had been a stillborn. She hated herself, she hated her body for it. She had disappointed Raoul and Charlotte. Even Raoul's gentle voice did nothing. It was obvious that he had been crying as well, but he tried to hide it for Christine's sake.

They were on the carriage ride now. Christine had checked out to be in perfect health, and had been permitted to leave. Raoul had told her to leave; but she didn't care. Nothing mattered. She hated herself.

She couldn't even cry. Christine just stared straight ahead, not answering any questions or saying anything. She didn't even move until she got in the carriage and got out.

Raoul walked her into the house, gently shushing Charlotte as she bombarded her mother with questions. He held her hand and put her into their, bed, softly shutting the door behind him.

That's when they came. The tears flowed through her until there was nothing left. She was still crying when Raoul came in to go to sleep. He hugged her and rocked her until they both fell asleep, Christine's head on his lap.

* * *

Morning was no different. Neither were the next few weeks. Christine still hated herself, and nothing was changing that. She sat in bed until Raoul left for work, and he forced her to get up to care for Charlotte. He never forced her to do anything, and his firm tone surprised Christine, but that only lasted for a minute.

She sat in Charlotte's room every day, staring out the window. Charlotte begged and pleaded with her to come with her and Maddie for a walk, but Christine kept putting it off.

They ate dinner, Christine was silent and barely touched her meal. Raoul tried to keep Charlotte cheery, but every time she tried to start a conversation with her mother, it would get no where.

Finally, one day after dinner, Raoul pulled Christine into their bedroom. He took her by her shoulders and gently shook her.

"Christine we have a beautiful daughter. She loves you very much. Did you see how heartbroken she was at dinner? Don't do this! It doesn't help with everything. You aren't the only one who is grieving. You weren't the only one I had to comfort that night! Charlotte was crying for an hour before she went to bed! Damn, Christine, I love you. It would kill me to see you like this. So come back to reality and love your daughter with everything you've got. Please Christine. You'll change her", he yelled at her.

Christine stared at him wide-eyed. That was all she could do, and she didn't say a word. "Damn it, Christine!" he sighed, and left.

Christine gave a small whimper. He was right, She was killing their family. Charlotte herself had become more dejected the last few days. She was three years old! She didn't deserve this.

She daintily picked up her skirts with one hand and walked into the hallway. Raoul was in the library, going over paperwork for the opera house. He looked up when she came in and sighed, looking back down.

"Raoul?" she said, speaking his name for the first time in weeks. He stiffened with surprise, but continued with his work.

"I'm sorry Raoul", she said, putting her hands on his shoulders from behind. He leaned into her touch, uncertain of what she was doing.

"I was so lost... I'll be better, I promise". He stood up and faced her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her, gently rocking her. She rested her head on his shoulder.

"I love you, Christine", he whispered into her hair.

"I love you, too". He took her in for a kiss. It lasted so long, but that was alright for Christine; she loved every second of it.

They broke apart, staring at each other lovingly. Raoul's blue eyes reflected Christine's as they looked at each other. "I think... you should go... and... see Charlotte... and put her... to bed", he said between kisses.

She nodded and reluctantly broke away, sliding her hand away from him, his touch still lingering on her waist. She smiled at him before shutting the door behind her softly.

Raoul ran his hands through his hair. Christine still touched his heart as fierce as ever. He could see in her eyes how much she loved him too. He was glad, especially after all that had happened. He never had wanted to force her into marriage. It was only if the love was mutual, and it seemed it would stay that way until "death do them part".

* * *

Christine softly padded into Charlotte's room. She smiled when she saw her daughter playing with one of her dolls, already in her nightgown. She looked up when Christine walked in, and ran to hug her.

Her head came up to Christine's thigh, and Christine stroked her dirty-blond hair. Charlotte looked up at Christine with her yellow green eyes.

As she was tucking Charlotte into bed, Christine decided to ask a question that had been hidden at the back of her mind until now. "Lotte", she began, "Who brought me to the doctors'?"

"That man. The man from the opera house. I don't know why he was here, he just was here", Charlotte explained.

Christine closed her eyes and took in a shuddered breath.

Her Angel was still watching over her.


	5. Return to Him, Her Teacher

Almost all night, Christine had been tossing and turning. She only went to sleep when Raoul stroked her hair, willing for her to get some sleep and calm down.

She had finally decided in the morning, and as soon as Raoul left, Christine began to ready Charlotte. Not only did she need to thank him, she needed to tell him something...

"Mama where are we going?" she asked when Christine pulled on her shoes as Charlotte watched.

"Charlotte, we're going to the opera house". She knew from Raoul that renovations still hadn't begun yet, because Raoul hadn't gotten all of the paperwork done, due to Christine. But that was fortunate for them today.

"Really, Mama? To see that man?" she said, jumping up and down in her seat.

Christine hesitated. It _was _the purpose... the only purpose, but Charlotte didn't need to know that. "We may run into him there", she stated firmly.

Charlotte smiled. Christine twisted her hair up and pinned it, stray curls falling around her face and around the bun she had created. She wore a purple short-sleeved dress.

She took Charlotte's hand and they rode to the opera house, Christine's heart beat getting louder and louder the closer they got to the opera house.

Entering cautiously through the same way as before, this time Christine gently called out. "Erik?" she softly called, her melodic voice echoing throughout the lair.

Charlotte moved closer to Christine, half hidden in her skirts. Christine looked up, and there he was, staring at her.

What was she doing here? And her daughter? Had she come to torture him with her presence? God, she was beautiful. His Angel had never put her long curly hair up before. It made her look even more like a goddess, curls falling out every which way, her hair no longer covering her shoulders. Her pale shoulders glowed in the candle light, and only a few inches of violet fabric separated her glowing shoulders from her long, slender arms.

"I wanted to... thank you. Charlotte said that you were the one that brought me to the doctor", she said softly. Even now, his presence seemed to make everything else go away.

He simply nodded. "I'm sorry if that we came so suddenly, but there's something else I need to tell you", she continued. She couldn't help but stare into his powerful eyes.

"Charlotte..." she trailed off, looking down at her daughter. She couldn't hear this. It would ruin her life. She loved Raoul so much. "Erik... may she... play the piano? I need to tell you", she continued timidly.

He frowned. Christine knew how much it meant to him. Finally, he sighed and nodded. His Angel was so different, so distant. As if they had only just met.

As soon as Charlotte began playing, Erik spoke. "Christine why did you come here?"

Christine bit her lip, a habit of hers since she was a little girl, Erik knew. "Erik..." she started.

She glanced at Charlotte and took a deep breath. He needed to know. "Charlotte... Erik, she's your daughter".

He felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. No. It couldn't be. It was only _one _time. No, not his Angel.

"How?" he asked stupidly.

Christine sighed, her eyes earnest. "You know how, Angel". She gasped and turned away. It had been an accident. She hadn't meant to call him that.

"Christine", he sighed. He looked away, avoiding Christine's gaze, and looked at Charlotte, who was playing around on the piano.

He turned his calmed stature toward Christine again. "How long have you known?" he asked in a deathly whisper.

Christine looked away. Oh God, he was going to be mad at her. she looked at her Angel again, his cloudy gaze focused on her as if she were the only thing in the world. His yellow-green eyes had never looked the same. But then again, rarely did Christine have the courage to look this man in the eyes.

"I... I've known... ever since I saw her eyes. I denied it, thinking that maybe... But then her hair grew and I saw the color, and she loves music so much. That was when I was certain, the music. I'm sorry Erik", she whispered.

"And only did you now tell me. Enlighten me, how old is she? Does she herself know?"

"Oh, no. She's only three years old, four soon. She was born in July. I didn't want to tell her".

She didn't know what else to say. He was mad at her, she knew it.

All she could think to do was apologize again, hope of forgiveness flickering in her voice. "I'm sorry, Angel".

He closed his eyes at that word, Angel. She had called him that so long ago, with love in her voice, before she saw his face.

"No, Christine. Don't", he brushed past her and went over to Charlotte, who had discovered a copy of the music for... what else, _Don Juan._

He sat next to her on the piano bench, and she jumped in surprise, but then let out a high-pitched giggle.

Christine stood away, watching this. He was trying to know his daughter. She silently walked up to them, wondering what they were talking about.

"No. It's a b flat, not a natural. There. And an e at the same time. Good", he instructed her.

Soon, the first two opening notes echoed throughout the cavernous lair, causing Christine to draw in a sharp breath.

Erik heard this and glanced at her, then went back to teaching Charlotte.

"Is someone supposed to sing?" Charlotte asked, pointing to the lyric line.

"Your mother once sang it", he told her quietly.

"Mama sang?! I've never heard her sing before".

"She had the voice of an Angel", he said in that deep, soothing, soft voice, turning to stare at Christine.

A blush crept over Christine's face. "I had a wonderful teacher", she whispered, staring back in wonderment. How quickly his emotions changed.

"Her teacher had quite the lovely student", he said back to her, a smile playing on his lips. It was an understatement. She had been so much more than lovely. she had stolen his whole being, his life.

She smiled at him, something she hadn't down for him in such a long time.

"Mama? Will you sing?" Charlotte's hopeful voice interrupted their thoughts.

Christine felt her breathing quicken. "N... No!" She turned away from them, staring at the ground. She whipped back to face them.  
"Charlotte, we'd better go now", she said abruptly, grabbing the little girl's hand.

"But Mama..."

"No, Lotte. Say goodbye, please". Charlotte waved to Erik, her small hand falling limp at her side.

"Thank you, again... for bringing me to the doctor", Christine stammered to Erik.

"She turned back away from him, her curls lose from her bun and brushing her porcelain shoulders whenever she moved. He watched them until her lavender skirt disappeared from his view.

He closed his eyes, wondering if she would ever come back. Wondering if he would ever see his daughter again.

It was difficult to grasp. He was a father. Never before had he even _pondered _the thought of anyone allowing his close enough to them, let alone having Christine bear his child. Their child. His Angel and him were bound by a human being, so small and such a little part in the world and yet... it meant everything to him.

And she had _smiled _at him. God forbid, they would never see each other again, but he had seen her beautiful smile one more time. He never thought that she would ever smile in his presence after... that, but there it had been. She had been so scared, shivering, the last time they had sang together. He had constantly seen her glance at that boy as she performed, worry and panic flickering across her eyes.

When she had told Charlotte about her teacher... he thought that maybe he had a chance. Something indistinguishable had fluttered across her face... longing for her Angel, perhaps. But then she had left so suddenly. That hopeful little flame he held of her forgiveness, of her coming back to him, had been doused when she left, her last words to him cold. When she left. With their daughter.


	6. Just Friends

She had never been so awestruck. Nothing else mattered in the world to her at that very moment, not even kind Madame Giry or Meg. She knew that there was something so sad and fierce about this Angel that she never wanted to leave him. He drew her in with his music... she had only been ten at the time, but everything about him had turned her speechless.

Christine remembered this. It told her that she could never let go of him in her life, even if she _was _married to Raoul. And now that he knew about their daughter, she couldn't just leave and never come back. He needed to see Charlotte, watch her grow, and Charlotte needed to see him, even if Charlotte didn't know the truth.

Which is why Christine decided to make a trip to the opera house a week later, but this time unaccompanied.

* * *

"Sophie, would you please care for Charlotte today? Her birthday is coming up, and I wanted to buy her some sheet music in town", she approached Sophie as she made breakfast.

"Yes, Madame. I'll take care of her", Sophie smiled.

Christine pulled on a frilled white gown trimmed with light blue ribbon, her hair half up with the same matching ribbon.

She stepped into the hot June summer sunshine. She had been nervous about this ever since she decided she was going to see him. With Charlotte it was different- this time she would be there by herself, exposed and vulnerable for him to do anything he wanted to her.

Christine pushed the thought out of her mind. She must not think like that.

The carriage soon arrived at the opera house.

As she stepped out, Christine felt her heart drop. Men bustled about, some carrying tools as the sound of hammering and sawing brought Christine down to realization: the opera house's renovation had begun.

The carriage rode away before Christine could do anything.

She approached one of the men timidly. He looked up in surprise. "Madame?" he greeted her, taking his hat off.

"Hello. I was wondering if you had seen... anyone..." she trailed off, realizing that she wouldn't really get anywhere.

"Madame, I don't know who you're talking about. Hell, maybe it's the Phantom of the Opera, the one who caused all of this in the first place", he chuckled, motioning to the mess behind him.

Christine looked away. "Oh, I'm sorry Madame. I didn't mean to offend you", a worried look crossed his face.

She smiled reassuringly, "No, you didn't. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you". Her eyes widened when she saw a glimpse of black behind a nearby building. "Excuse me", she murmured, walking away.

"Miss, aren't you... Christine Daae?" he called after her.

Christine blushed, still hurrying away. After the opera house had been burned down, her name had been mentioned in the paper so many times; that was where he must have remembered her from. That was when she hadn't been married to Raoul.

Reaching the building where it was more secluded, she peered around the corner. "Erik?" she whispered.

There was a soft rustle of fabric and he stepped in front of her.

"I came just..." she never got a chance to finish her sentence.

He raised his index finger to his mouth, quieting her. "Come with me", he said, reaching to take her hand.

She pulled back instinctively. "I'll return you to the boy whenever you want me to", he sighed.

She glanced at him and hesitantly put her hand in his.

He led her farther into the alley where a silent black horse waited for them.

Christine jumped when she felt his arms around her waist, and suddenly she was being lifted onto the horse. He quickly jumped on after her.

With a jolt she realized that she would have to hold onto his waist. She could feel him grow frigid as she wrapped her slender arms around his strong, sturdy figure. It was the most contact with each other that they had encountered ever since the opera house's last night. And Christine had no idea how long this ride was going to be.

He took her through the most desolate streets, her curls blowing wildly as they cantered.

About ten minutes into the ride, they were in the country, and several minutes after that, they had arrived at a small, run-down cottage with no one except them to be seen for miles.

Christine let go of him, grateful for the end of the ride. She knew that she felt nothing but friendship for him but touching him like that brought a closer intimacy about them.

He helped her down, like last time holding her waist, and sent tingles down her spine. But she ignored the feeling. She was married to Raoul, and she was very happy with him and Charlotte.

He took her hand again, leading her into the shack. Inside was simple and clean.

Clean wood showed no signs of dust or cobwebs, but that was all there was- wood. Except for the piano in the corner. And a few candles.

"Erik? Where are we?" Christine asked timidly.

"This, Christine de Chagny, is my new lair. Since your husband decided to renovate, I'm stuck here. For the time being", he said sarcastically.

Christine frowned. "Without your chandelier act, it certainly would be different, wouldn't it? You wouldn't have to resort to this 'new lair'", she said coldly, dropping his hand.

"I didn't ask you to come here; you came to me. If you decide you can't come to... appreciate your surroundings, you may leave the same way you came in", he retorted.

"I didn't come here to argue, Erik".

"Then do tell, dear, why you _did _come".

"If you would stop acting like that, I _will _tell you", Christine snapped.

He frowned, looking worried. "Christine, are you alright?"

"You mean it's perfectly fine for you to argue, but when I do, it raises a red flag?" she laughed, her sweet voice breaking the tension.

"My dear, I'm the Phantom of the Opera. I have the right to", he said, his eyes sparkling.

"Please don't call me dear. You never did before".

"Would you prefer Angel?" he looked at her, waiting to see a reaction. But he got none.

"No, Erik. Christine is perfectly fine. Things are different now".

"It certainly is. You're married to that boy, yet it is _our _child you are housing. What do I mean to you, Christine?"

"When I was a little girl, you meant everything to me: my life. You've been such a big part of my life. I cannot just leave you".

"And you think it would be better for me to see you, to want you, knowing that I can't have you, knowing you have a husband you love waiting for you at home?"

"Can we not just be... friends?" Christine approached him with her question.

"Friends, Christine? You must not know how little the term means to me. Love means something to me, Christine. But only and forever with you".

Christine looked away. No. She couldn't just step out of her current life to be with him. Besides, she loved Raoul.

"Please don't", she asked Erik sadly.

He walked over to sit at his piano. Christine's heart sped up.

"Why don't you sing anymore, Christine?" he changed the subject.

"I... I made a promise to myself that night. The night the opera house burned down". She couldn't believe she was telling him this. "I told myself that I would never sing again, unless I saw my Angel and... he asked me to", she finished blushing a beet red,

Erik looked at her curiously. This was more like his timid, shy Christine Daae. Not the cold, older Christine de Chagny.

He rose from the bench and took her hand gently. "Christine... will you sing for me? Your Angel?" he quietly asked her.

"I... I don't know. I haven't sung in such a long time", she stammered, startled at his request.

"I haven't heard you sing in such a long time", he whispered softly to her. He was so close now, their noses almost touching.

She stared into his powerful eyes, forgetting everything around her as she usually felt around him.

"No, please", she whispered.

His arms roamed her back now, taking in her curve.

She pulled back, tears threatening to appear, stinging her eyes. "I shouldn't be doing this. Don't, Erik".

He looked down, looking embarrassed. "Just tell me Christine. Do you have _any _feelings for me?" he asked her.

At her silence, he spoke again. "If you don't, it would be best if you just left me, and never came back. You presence makes it unbearable", he admitted.

"No, please. I couldn't do that- just leave you", Christine said, fighting with her own feelings.

"Christine, don't lie to yourself or to me. Do you feel _anything _around me?" he demanded.

She felt faint. This couldn't be happening. "Yes", she whispered.


	7. The Wonderful Life

**Warning: Some mature content. They ARE husband and wife... And please forgive if her dream is weird. I needed it to really scare her.**

For Christine, everything was a blur the next day. And the next week. She couldn't stop thinking about what she had said to him. Now she questioned herself: did she really mean it?

Yet there was indeed a little spark flaming inside of Christine. It was just that... the life she had now was so perfect. It was anything a girl or woman could possibly wish for. She had a wonderful husband that obviously loved her. To step away from this life would be stepping away from her dream. Nothing would be right.

No. She couldn't just leave. Why had she even told Erik that she felt _anything? _She wasn't even sure if it was love she felt now. Maybe it was just because... he had played a part in her life that she would never forget. She couldn't forget it, even if she tried. And God, how she tried.

She would play the part of the perfect wife in the perfect family. She would refrain from seeing Erik. She would start over, in a way. She would take Charlotte to the park. She would love Raoul with all her heart, and support him through anything. She would teach Charlotte how to sew and cook.

Christine took this new set of rules she had established for herself and live by them. She would try to forget about Erik altogether.

* * *

That night, at dinner, Raoul noticed the incredible change in Christine. Since everything that had ever happened at the opera house, Christine wasn't the same beautiful woman he talked to the night of _Hannibal. _But now... he saw the love in her eyes whenever she looked at him, heard the soft, precious tone she used especially for him, and felt the ever-so-slight brush of her hand against his.

His fingers engulfed Christine's as he led her away from the dinner table, leaving Charlotte to wash up for bed. "Raoul?" Christine inquired. The mischievous glint in his eyes made Christine suddenly quite aware of what he might do to her.

Not waiting for his answer, she spoke again. "No, Raoul, wait. I need to go put Charlotte to bed". Nervousness swelled up in her as she tried to push conflicting thoughts of Erik out of her mind.

Raoul gave a half smile and let her go, obviously fantasizing about his own... ideas. Christine felt her face flush and scampered to Charlotte's room.

She unbuttoned the buttons on the back of Charlotte's dress, thoughts of Raoul whirling through her mind. She couldn't seem to focus on anything, fumbling with several of Charlotte's buttons before finally reaching the bottom.

Finally tucking the sheets over Charlotte and kissing her cheek, Christine blew out the lamp. She padded down the hall to their room.

Relieved to find Raoul no where in sight, she dressed into her nightgown, and was just brushing her hair when she heard the door squeak open and then close.

His warm hands closed around her shoulders, sending a combination of nervousness and happiness up Christine's spine. This was what she chose. She had chose Raoul. No turning back now.

"Raoul". The brush was set down on the table with a soft clunk, and she leaned into him, entwining his arms around her waist. He dotted her mouth with a quick kiss.

She kissed him back, returning all of the love and kindness he had ever given her. The love she had not thought to return until now. His hands wandered the small of Christine's back and lowered, making Christine close her eyes in rapture. His hands cupped her hind and lifted her up, carrying her to the bed.

Christine wrapped her legs around his waist, her robe peeling to either side of her and her nightgown stretched to retain that position. He gently set her down, unraveling her long legs from his body. He sat on the edge of the bed, leaning down to kiss her. Christine propped herself up on her elbows, pushing further into the kiss they held. His hands brushed her shoulders, swiping away the sleeves of her robe, leaving it to fall to the carpeted floor.

She lay only in her nightgown, the thin, one-inch sleeves threatening to fall over her shoulders from the scooping neckline. Raoul's fingers unworked the satin ties in the back, and the soft fabric wilted forward, threatening to expose her breasts. She withdrew her arms from the sleeves, revealing her sculpted breasts to Raoul's eyes, the top of her nightdress falling to her lap in a crumbled heap.

His hands brushed over the tip of her nipple, sending new feelings throughout Christine's body. As he kissed his way down, he pulled Christine's nightgown all the way off, and soon it lay crumpled next to the discarded robe.

Everything left Christine's thoughts except for her love for Raoul. Soon, both of them were lost in their own world, nothing else mattered to them.

* * *

Christine lay exhausted next to Raoul, her small hand resting on his bare chest as she cuddled up to him. She listened for any noises of Charlotte, but heard none, signaling that her daughter was sound asleep.

She had done it. Well, of course it wasn't the first time - she and Raoul had been married for a few years now. But this time it felt different. Like she couldn't turn back. She had pas the point of no return again.

She leaned closer into Raoul, pressed her naked body against his. She couldn't start thinking about Erik now. Not after all she had done with Raoul tonight, not thinking about him once. But she couldn't help feeling guilt. Guilt for what, she didn't know, because soon she drifted off into sleep, feeling protected and more comfortable than usual with Raoul so close to her.

She dreamed that night. She had never dreamed ever since... Actually she had dreamt, she had just always woken herself up before anything could happen in the dream.

_It was Erik. It started off like that time so long ago, when she had first seen the an she had believed to be her Angel. He took her into her lair, but this time the whole way there was silent. Only when they arrived at his lair had he begun to speak._

_"Christine, why do you do this to me? You made me die". And at those words, he had faded away, until instead of holding his hand, she was holding empty air._

_"Erik? Erik!" she screamed, looking around frantically to see where he had disappeared to. His lair was completely empty except for her, the only sound being the water from the lake lapping softly at the small patch of sand and all of the concrete._

_She looked across the water, wondering how she could get out. She rolled her eyes at her own stupidity, and looked down at the small boat at her feet._

_She was already tense and frightened about Erik's abrupt disappearance, but what she saw made her scream._

_A body lay in the water, facing down, but obvious as to who it was. The shallow water was clear enough to see the body sunken down to the sandy bottom. She screamed, pierced the cold silence with her voice. "ERIK!" she screamed, waking herself up._

Christine woke up in a cold sweat, the candlelight blinding her as she opened her eyes. Raoul stood over her, his pants and shirt thrown hastily on as his face creased with worry. "Christine? Are you alright? You screamed", he asked her.

A cry from a nearby room made Christine flinch until she realized that she had woken Charlotte. Raoul flashed her another worried look before taking another candle to Charlotte's room.

Christine's breaths came in short, ragged ones as she tried to piece the dream together. Had she caused Erik's death? Was this a warning? She closed her eyes, but before she could figure it out, Raoul came in, looking exhausted.

"I'm sorry", she whispered. He shrugged and got into bed beside her. Christine looked down and flushed at her still-naked body. Her robe and nightgown lay in a collective heap on the floor.

He quickly kissed her. She snuggled up next to him, trying to get comforted. He wrapped his arm protectively around her and soon fell asleep.

Christine couldn't. She should've felt comforted and peaceful with her husband sleeping next to her like that, but there was one thing on her mind that she couldn't stop thinking about.

She prayed it was only a dream.


	8. Nothing Will Ever Matter

Christine stayed awake until morning, taking comfort in the nook of Raoul's arm, but at the same time pondering everything. Before Raoul even woke to go to work, Christine was up and getting dressed. It wasn't only because she couldn't sleep; she didn't relish the idea of Raoul seeing her nude when he woke up.

She stared back at her pale reflection as she pulled and pinned her hair up into a bun, her curls already escaping minutes later. She was more pale then usual, her eyes tired from getting practically no sleep last night. Her dress curved around her small frame, billowing out right above her waist, the light blue fabric pooling out around the circumference of her body. Her short sleeves puffed out, close to completely revealing her porcelain shoulders, ruffles flowing about the neckline. Her engagement ring glimmered on her finger, a constant reminder of her togetherness with Raoul. It shined in the dim candlelight.

Closing her eyes as she tried to erase everything, demolish all thoughts of Erik, Raoul stirred behind her, the thin premature sunlight filtering through the navy blue curtains. She abruptly turned to face him, whipping even more curls out of her up-do, causing some to cascade down so that it barely brushed the tip of her shoulders.

"Christine?" Raoul called sleepily.

"Yes, Raoul?" she asked in her cheeriest voice possible. It wasn't his fault she had had that horrible dream last night. As a matter of fact, none of this was his fault.

"What are you doing up already? And already dressed too?" he asked her, concern dropping into his voice.

She smiled at him, walking over to sit by him on the bed. "No reason. I just got up early and decided to get dressed. Besides, I was planning on taking Charlotte to the park or something like that today, depending on what she wants".

In turn, he smiled and drew her in for a long kiss. All thoughts of Erik and her dream last night melted away into nothingness as he pressed his lips onto hers, bringing once more that pleasant exuberating tingling feeling throughout her body. It still had that effect on her; how could she possibly think of abandoning him?

He reluctantly pulled away with a smile, then began to get ready for work. Christine walked to Charlotte's room.

She pulled away the curtains, letting in all the sunlight into the dark room. Charlotte woke up, rubbing her eyes as Christine sat next to her on her bed.

"Charlotte, I'm sorry for being so odd these past few months. For you, we can go wherever you want today", Christine rested her hand on Charlotte's, smiling at her and trying to be as happy as her memories would let her.

Charlotte immediately perked up at the idea. Without even having to think about it, she replied. "To that man!" she jumped up and down.

"Oh, God", Christine blurted out.

"What's the matter, Mama? You said we could go anywhere", Charlotte frowned.

"W-which man?" Christine closed her eyes, afraid of the answer.

"Mama, you know him. The man with the mask. The one that likes you", she told her.

One lesson that Christine would never forget from her father was to never back out on your word. She had promised him that she would never back out on her word, and she wasn't going to start doing so now. She could take it. Which was why she had to relent to taking Charlotte to his cottage, far in the countryside that day.

* * *

Christine pulled the reins back, slowing down the horses. She had taken a carriage with just herself and Charlotte, not wanting even a carriage man to know where they were. Birds chirped around them, and cows nearby mooed and munched on grass.

Christine held Charlotte's hand, helping her out of the carriage. With a shaking hand, she rapped on the door twice, her eyes closed as if it would help her out of her situation.

There was a swish of fabric behind the door, and soon it opened. Erik stood there silently, not sure of what to make of it. Coming back to his senses, he opened the door wider, and Christine and Charlotte came in.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed.

Christine's lower lip trembled. "I... Charlotte wanted to come".

He glanced at her disbelievingly and took her hand. Within seconds, his lips were pressed against hers, his hands encircling her waist and back.

Christine pulled away, shocked. Her eyes widened in astonishment, taking in his strong frame. "Erik!" she hissed angrily.

"I thought you said you still had feelings for me, Christine", he snarled.

"Erik, please!" Christine grabbed Charlotte's hand, who had just seen her mother get kissed.

"No, Christine. You need to tell me the truth. We cannot go on like this", he demanded.

"Stay here, please, Charlotte", she instructed her daughter. Charlotte nodded sullenly as Christine gently took Erik's hand and led him into the dusty kitchen. He glared at her, waiting for her to speak.

"Erik I love you", she blurted out.

At first he looked surprised, but then he began to glare at her again. "So? You've told me that before, Madame de Chagny. By now I know that it means nothing coming from you".

"No! I've been afraid to admit it all this time. Please, why don't you believe me?" she pleaded with him.

"Why don't I believe you? Ha! Madame de Chagny it's hard to believe you after all you've told me", he said. Christine tensed at the use of her married name.

As if in turn, Christine crashed her lips onto Erik's. He was taken by surprise, but when Christine tongue traced the part between his lips, he opened hesitantly, giving in.

Christine's breast brushed against Erik as she pressed into him. He pushed her away, his eyes the angriest Christine had ever seen. "Christine!" he roared.

"I'm just another man you can please, isn't that it? First me, then that boy. You might as well sell yourself, Christine", he growled.

"How did you know...?" Christine asked him, thinking back to what she had done with Raoul last night.

"Christine, how could I just stop watching over you? You don't think I saw?" he said, his voice now dripping with sadness.

"Erik... you... _saw_?" she said. She thought of how her body had reacted with Raoul's, how she had softly called his name in pleasure, their bodies becoming one.

"Yes, I saw, Madame de Chagny. I also saw that you seem to be quite happy with the boy. I love you Christine, but it isn't right if you only love me for my body", he sneered again.

"Erik, no...!" Christine said, eager to explain.

"NO Christine! Go! I have never been in the presence of a whore, and I will not start now!" he blew up.

Christine felt tears gush down her cheeks, almost blinding her vision as she grabbed Charlotte's hand and rushed out the door. In record timing, she and Charlotte were driving wildly further into the countryside, not even caring where she went.

Erik ran out into the front yard, calling after Christine. She had already rounded the hill. He slammed the door as he went inside.

"YOU STUPID FILTHY BEAST!" he yelled at himself, throwing his mask on the floor as it crumbled into pieces. He collapsed on the floor, crying just as hard as Christine had been when she had left.

He took a knife he kept by the door and drove it into his body.


	9. All Alone

**Sorry about the short chapters...**

Christine could hardly breath as she jumped out of the carriage, hearing the sharp tear of fabric as she ran to no where in particular, finally crumbling to a heap on the ground, her body racked with sobs.

"Mama!" Charlotte cautiously jumped out of the carriage, running toward her sobbing mother. She knelt beside Christine, unsure of what to do.

"Oh, my baby", Christine muttered through her tears as she squeezed Charlotte tight, seeking comfort from love.

For what seemed like eternity later, Christine finally let go, her face tear stained, her eyes red, and her body still trembling from her violent tears. Charlotte looked at her curiously, knowing something was wrong but afraid to say anything until she finally spoke. "Mama, we have to go back to Daddy", she cautiously approached her.

Christine shook her head, sighing. "No. Babe, we're not going back". She wouldn't be able to take it. Now she knew she loved Erik. Erik didn't love her. Raoul loved her. But Raoul wasn't the one Christine loved.

"But Mama!" Charlotte cried.

"Hush, Charlotte", she cradled the little girl in her arms. She had no idea how she was going to do it. She had little money tucked in her petticoat, and surely Raoul would send out a search for her. She had to support her and Charlotte, and hadn't the faintest idea of where to start.

They stayed like that for a while, underneath a big oak tree, safe from the harsh summer heat. Charlotte took a nap, her head resting on Christine's back as her mother stroked her head, trying so hard not to start crying again. The bark of the tree dug into Christine's back, but perhaps she deserved the pain, she thought. No, she deserved much more then just that pain.

Twilight soon came around, and Charlotte still remained asleep. Christine knew it was late, and despite all the pain and hurt she felt, she knew that Charlotte must be hungry. She just had no idea how she was going to get food.

"Charlotte", she whispered, wakening the little girl at once.

"Mama I'm hungry", she cried as soon as she woke up.

"I know", Christine stood up, her legs tingling from staying in that same position for so long. She gripped her daughter's hand as she walked to the carriage, which had been parked near the road.

She stopped in her tracks when all that lay ahead of her was stretching countryside, the carriage no where to be seen. She closed her eyes and turned her head toward the sky. She picked up Charlotte and began to walk down the road, the opposite way that which she had come.

* * *

Raoul was murderously anxious right now. His fists were clenched as he paced the dining room, a steaming plate of food set out for only one person on the table, completely untouched.

Police had been ordered to search the whole city and beyond. Much to Raoul's protest, the chief of police had ordered Raoul to stay home, in case Christine were to return.

He slammed his fist on the table in agony. Had she ran away? Or had she been kidnapped? But why would she run away? They had no problems, no arguments, and everything was going perfectly fine. He had even made love to her last night! He paled when he thought of who would want to kidnap his Christine. Only one name kept making its way into his head.

* * *

Erik cursed himself. For everything that had ever happened to Christine because of him. His foolish notions had gotten him no where. He had been too hopeful to dare to even think that he would have a chance of gaining Christine's love.

She had most likely ran off to her precious little vicomte, crying to him as she spoke of her Angel from hell.

Now, as he sat there bleeding through the small puncture wound in his stomach, he hated himself with such a vile feeling that he wanted to kill himself. Of course he had tried. He just had. He had tried before. But he never could. God wanted him to live out his torture, and so he always broke down as the coward he was, or something kept him from harming himself.

"You stupid fool", he muttered to himself again. It was over. Christine had probably returned to Raoul, and she certainly wasn't coming back after all he had said to his precious Christine.

* * *

Christine warily carried Charlotte in her arms, still lost amidst the rolling countryside. She had promised Charlotte food, but there was nothing, and surely it had to be late at night now. Besides, if she did come into a town, she doubted it would be safe for her to be there in the middle of the night.

Finally giving up and making her decision, Christine found a small clear stream and walked over to it, Charlotte still in her hands. She softly set Charlotte down on the ground besides the trickling stream.

"Mama, I'm hungry!" she said again. Christine almost broke out in tears again. She hated seeing Charlotte like this. Charlotte had never known hunger; she had three healthy meals a day. Only Christine knew what it felt like - like when her father couldn't find a place to perform his violin.

She didn't want this for her daughter... but surely if she went back to either Raoul or Erik, they wouldn't let her go again. And she couldn't be there with either of them.

"I'm sorry, Charlotte. We can't... You'll have to wait until the morning. I promise you, in the morning, we'll both have food", she kneeled down beside the creek.

After both she and Charlotte had drank from the stream, Charlotte once again settled in her lap.

"Will you please sing a song, Mama? I've never really heard you sing before", Charlotte asked her sleepily.

Christine hesitated. She had never sung for Charlotte, promising to only ever sing for her Angel. But her Angel was gone now. "Of course, Charlotte".

And she did sing. She sang more beautifully then she ever had. And there was only one reason for that: she sang for her Angel


End file.
